by John Kess
“Then you know what you have to do first. Find her, Dylan.”
* * *
I set out the next morning in the pouring rain. Molly and I had covered every major area outside a ring around the original search area—except for one directly to the southeast. It took five hours of hiking before I found a decent campsite. I marked the site on my GPS, set up my tent, ate a lunch of my mom’s beef stew, and an apple. I then left with my day pack and rain gear. I’d put everything, including my food, the phone, clothes, and the GPS, in plastic bags.
The small streams were now overflowing their banks, and I found myself spending more time looking for a safe place to cross them than ever before. I changed my route several times because of fast-flowing water. The same was true the second day as the sky was even darker, producing a downpour that made it hard to see ten feet in front of me.
I stood under a large pine tree and dug the ringing phone from my backpack and out of its plastic bag.
“There are flash-flood watches and warnings over most of the state.” Mom sounded desperate. “Come home. You can go back out when this storm leaves.”
“I can’t do that, Mom.”
“It’s going to get worse.”
“I’ll be fine.”
I could tell the past few months had worn Mom down. She stayed strong for Amy after Hannah was taken, but I could tell her will was starting to fade. Normally, Mom would have demanded I come home. Instead she backed down.
“Please be careful,” she said, sighing.
“Any news about Molly?” I asked.
“I called her yesterday. Doctors say she might be released in a week. They’re working to find a foster home here. If they can’t find a place for her by the time she’s released, your dad and I have agreed to let her stay here. It’ll be temporary, until they find a permanent foster home.”
“Thanks, Mom. Molly will be happy to hear that.”
“I know. Just make sure you stay safe so she has someone to come home to.”
I thanked her again and we hung up.
* * *
The next day brought even more rain, and this time a cold wind blew it sideways. I had to anchor the corners of my tent with rocks before setting out.
For several hours, hiking was almost impossible. My rain gear fluttered and pulled me backward anytime it caught a chilling burst of wind.
I missed Molly, but I was glad she didn’t have to deal with the misery I was enduring. The rain felt like frozen needles attacking my face.
I crossed the top of a large hill and carefully began my descent. I heard a strange whooshing noise, like wind blowing through pine trees. Something about it sounded out of place; the pitch of the noise stayed the same. I ruled out that it was the wind as icy rain blew in my face with varying force. I headed in the direction of the noise. As I got closer, it became a constant angry roar. I couldn’t see it through the trees. It was getting louder. I approached and found myself standing on a grassy cliff twenty-five feet above a river overflowing its far bank so that it was the size of an eight-lane highway. The water moved so fast it was hard not to stare. My eyes panned from upstream to downstream. The river’s brown and white rapids didn’t have a single smooth section. I looked over the edge down at the water far below me and noticed the water was eating away at the dirt cliff below.
Just as I realized this, I heard a low rumble and the ground gave way. My backpack hit with a thud. I slid down a slope, grabbing at loose dirt. I went into a free fall and plunged into the freezing water that made me feel like wasps were stinging me all over. My rain gear and backpack fought me as I tried to move my arms and legs. My feet hit the bottom, and I tumbled head over heels in the current before I surfaced, gasping for air. The water forced me into a rock and spun me sideways. I went under again, only to be slammed into another rock. The current was so strong the trees on both sides of the river blurred as I fought to stay above water.
Molly’s words popped into my head. “Don’t panic! Relax, and remember your butt is an anchor.”
I didn’t want my feet to catch on the bottom, so I held them up as I floated down the middle of the river. Water poured over my face again and again, and I held my arms out while trying to remain calm. The shock from the cold water was setting in when I saw I was heading toward a large bend in the river. Molly had shown me the crawl stroke, but when I flipped over, the weight of my soaked backpack dragged me underwater and I was forced onto my back again. The current whipped me around curve after curve.
A downed tree lay across part of the river up ahead. I swam toward it and grabbed hold of a leafy branch. The current pulled me as the branch easily bent. It ripped the skin of my palms as it slipped through my hands. I was forced to let go, and the tree quickly disappeared.
The roar of the river grew and my speed increased. I went by one large rock and then another. I reached out to grab the next one, but there was no way I could hold on. I dropped a few feet, and a big rapid swallowed me and spun me around so that I was facedown. My face slammed into a rock and the world blurred as I flipped onto my back. As I pulled my hand away from my forehead it was covered in blood.
The river went around another bend and I saw downed trees underwater on the far bank. I flapped my arms trying to aim for them, but again the current was too strong and soon they were well behind me. A rock hit my backpack and I rolled over twice in the rapids. I righted myself and looked downstream. The water roared all around me. I fought to stay above the surface as I went shooting down the swollen river. My knees and my elbows hit rock after rock as I was tossed around in the rapids. My butt hurt from scraping the jagged river bottom. Every time I attempted to unbuckle the strap of my backpack, my arms were forced to let go to stabilize my body.
The river ahead took a turn to the left and I swam as hard as I could to the right bank. Bushes were sticking out of the water and I grabbed on. My raw hands burned as the water pushed against me. I forced my feet down and pushed off the river bottom toward shore. My water-soaked backpack was so heavy I dropped back into the water. I grabbed another bush, and was able to swing closer to shore. The water pummeled me as I fought for a grip on the rocky bottom. Water drained from my rain gear as I crawled over the sharp rocks onto the riverbank and collapsed.
My heart was racing as I slipped my backpack off and rolled onto my back. Gusts of wind turned the pouring rain into icy pellets that hit my face. My hands were cut and my legs were so cold I couldn’t feel them. A large bruise had formed on my arm, my bottom lip had been split open, and my forehead was still bleeding.
The roar of the river drowned out everything else. I touched the cut on my lip and then looked at the dirt around me. It looked dark and fresh, as it if had just been excavated. It slanted upward at an angle and came to a grassy ledge roughly two stories above me. I realized it too had recently broken away and been washed downstream, just like the ledge I’d been stupid enough to stand on a few minutes earlier.
Everything stopped as I spotted something that didn’t belong. What looked like part of a thick black plastic bag was flapping in the wind a few feet below the top of the embankment. The soil above it looked different than what was around it, as if something had disturbed it by burying the plastic.
I rolled onto my stomach and pulled myself up on my knees. I got to my feet and climbed up the steep cliff. I dug my feet and hands in the soft dirt and worked my way up so my head was next to the plastic. Despite the wind, a stench hit my nose and made me stop. The plastic flapping in the wind was torn, but I couldn’t see inside because part of it was still buried in the dirt.
Slowly I reached up and pulled on it. The plastic tore easily. I jumped back as I spotted a gray human toe. I lost my footing and slid down the muddy embankment and landed on the ground next to my backpack.
“Oh, God. Oh, God. No!” I screamed.
I forced myself to climb back up and look again. I pulled off more of the plastic and pushed some dirt aside. I saw a pale gray ankle bound with rope
to the other ankle. Part way up the ankle I saw a faded orange circle the size of a quarter with a faint smiley face. I stopped breathing as I stared at it.
The world started to spin. Numbness overcame me, and I saw Amy’s face as she told me there was a man in the house.
“No, it can’t be,” I said, looking at the tattoo again. “NO!” Tears filled my eyes.
I let myself slide back down the embankment. My insides felt like they were being pressurized. I was covered in mud as I crawled to the riverbank and threw up into the water.
I looked up at the sky and was nauseous. I couldn’t breathe. I curled into a ball and started sobbing. I let out a long, agonizing scream that rivaled the rushing water nearby.
My whole body trembled as I rolled on my back and lay in the mud. I stared up at the gray sky in a daze. Rain mixed with tears poured down my face. My head pounded as the world seemed to blur into my nightmares. I had told myself for so long that I would find Hannah, but I never wanted to find her like this. I remembered the last time I saw her standing at the bottom of the stairs laughing before she went to bed and realized it would be the last memory I would ever have of her. Then I thought about having to tell my family that Hannah was dead.
I sat up and looked at the black plastic flapping in the wind and had to turn away. I crawled over to my backpack and wondered if my phone or my GPS survived the river. The GPS was still dry in the plastic bag, and so was the satellite phone. The GPS display was cracked. I turned it on and it worked. I moved under a clump of trees and the phone, too, came to life.
I wondered how I was going to tell them. I looked over at where Hannah was buried and felt my first hint of anger. I thought about finding the man who did this and how the police might find evidence that would lead them to him. I decided to call my dad’s boss, Police Chief Delgado, first.
I dialed 911 and asked to speak with him immediately. The dispatcher put me through.
“This is Chief Delgado.”
“Chief, this is Dylan Beachley. I found her. I found Hannah’s body buried by a river. She’s dead.” A lump formed in my throat as I said it.
“Where are you?”
I read the coordinates off the GPS unit. He told me to stay away from the body. He was sending a team to me, and he’d come with them.
“Does your family know?” he asked.
“No.”
“Do you want me to tell them?”
“No, I’ll do it.”
He told me to sit tight and he’d be there soon.
After we hung up, I stared at the phone and started to cry. I took some deep breaths and dialed my dad’s cell phone.
“Hi, Dylan,” he said.
I tried to speak, but nothing came out.
“Dylan, are you there? Are you okay?”
“I’m here. I …”
“What’s wrong?”
“I found her.” My voice cracked as I spoke. “I found Hannah. I’m sorry, Dad. She’s dead.”
Chapter 14
The days leading up to Hannah’s wake went by in a blur. Family and friends poured in from all over to offer their support just as they had seven weeks ago when she’d been taken. Our front lawn turned into a memorial overnight, covering the grass with flowers, cards, letters, and signs. One of the signs said, “We’ll miss you always.” Another just said, “Why?”
The news vans returned and were now parked outside our house, their boom antennas extended high into the air. I spotted three separate newscasters talking to their cameras at the same time. A national news station asked to interview me, the boy who found his sister, but my parents said no, and I was glad. I wouldn’t have done it anyway.
The number of people who attended the wake was beyond what I could’ve imagined. They filed by her closed casket for hours. Some cried and others simply said goodbye. People I didn’t know came up and hugged me while telling me things like, “You’ve helped us all by finding her,” “Thank you for finding Hannah,” and “Now we know and this will bring closure.” I rarely spoke and just nodded as people said these things to me. Any words that passed out of my mouth felt empty and without meaning. Nothing could soothe the fact that Hannah was dead.
Mom and Dad greeted everyone—relatives, church members, students, teachers, members of Hannah’s swim and dance teams, and countless others who came to pay their respects. Police officers traveled from several states away and a few even came from Canada to offer support to a fellow officer.
Hannah’s best friend, Alyssa, began bawling when she hugged me. I held her for awhile as others came and put their hands on her shoulders.
“I miss her so much,” Alyssa said and then broke down again.
I helped her to a bench, where she sat and buried her head in her hands and was quickly surrounded by a group of friends. They huddled around her as they tried to console her.
I looked at Alyssa and thought about the ropes that had bound Hannah’s ankles. I wasn’t allowed to stay when they removed her body. The autopsy showed she died from asphyxiation roughly three weeks earlier, which meant Hannah had lived for almost a month after being kidnapped. I couldn’t imagine the hell she’d gone through the last month of her life. No one would talk to me about what had happened to Hannah, and I hadn’t asked. I’d seen enough to put it together for myself. I didn’t need to know any more.
Any hope of finding the person who had murdered her vanished when investigators found no evidence either on her or around the area where she’d been buried.
The anger I had felt the past weeks was gone, replaced with a peace explained only by the fact that Hannah’s suffering was over. Even as I looked at her casket, my sadness mixed with the tremendous relief of having found her. I had wanted so badly to find Hannah alive in one of the houses Molly and I had watched or in the cave we found. Finding her dead and buried was a possibility I’d refused to accept until I was forced to do so.
Blake Weldon stood in front of her casket for a few minutes while classmates put their hands on his shoulders as they passed by. I remembered him saying he hoped Hannah was still alive when Molly and I came across him and his friends sitting around the campfire in the woods.
Blake spotted me looking at him and walked over to me. “I’m so sorry, Dylan. Hannah didn’t deserve this.” He put his hand on my shoulder and then walked away.
Wiz came with his parents. He greeted me and said, “Hannah was always nice to me.” He also thanked me for finding her. I thanked him for the equipment he loaned me and told him it was helpful. His parents offered their condolences, gave me a hug and told me to stop over anytime.
I spotted Father Whitmore, dressed in his usual priest clerical uniform. He had stopped by our house the night I found Hannah.
He sat down next to me. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
Father Whitmore looked around the room. “Seeing all these people here reminds me of how Hannah affected people’s lives in such a positive way,” he said. “She really was special.”
I nodded.
He told me how Hannah had inspired one of the younger girls in youth group to join the swim team. It made me sad that Molly, who would be joining in the fall, and Hannah would not be teammates.
Father Whitmore spoke for a few more minutes and then stood. “If you ever want to talk, just let me know. I’m available anytime.”
I thanked him, and he went to talk to my parents.
The number of people in the funeral home continued to grow. One of my teachers, who also had Hannah as a student, was talking to me when Amy wrapped both her arms around my leg.
Amy looked up at me with those big brown eyes on the verge of tears. “I don’t want to be here anymore.” I didn’t either.
I nodded and picked her up. I said goodbye to my teacher and found Dad. “Amy and I will be at the park across the street.” He nodded.
I carried Amy outside into a misting gray sky.
Everyone left us alone as we walked to the small park. Amy climbe
d up the steps to a platform with a large tube connecting it to another platform. She crawled in and lay facedown, burying her head in her arms. I climbed onto the platform and sat down behind a wall to hide myself from those filing in and out of the funeral home. I looked up at the sky, letting the mist hit me in the face.
I thought of Molly, who was still waiting to be released from the hospital, and then I thought about her dad. I remembered the picture of Mr. Beckstrand hugging a much younger Molly and then imagined Hannah and Mr. Beckstrand standing next to each other, looking down on me from heaven. I couldn’t help but smile as I pictured them. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the picture of Hannah and me.
My lip was still healing and the cut on my forehead was almost unnoticeable. The invisible metal band was gone. My joints felt normal again and I could breathe easily for the first time in a long time.
I saw that Amy was shaking from the cold. Molly had been right. I needed to talk to her, but this wasn’t the time. I’d been gone so much since Hannah was taken that I figured Amy must feel like she’d lost both of her siblings. I made a silent promise to help her any way I could.
I covered Amy with my coat. “I’m right here, Amy. I’m not going anywhere. It’s just you and me now.”
* * *
Hannah’s funeral Mass was held the next day at our church. The large crowd forced people to stand in the aisles.
Father Whitmore spoke of Hannah’s love for family, a family who had never given up hope of finding her. He spoke of how Hannah, at a weekend church retreat, had told him of her love of swimming and how excited she was at the prospect of getting her driver’s license.
News cameras were rolling as we left the church and followed the hearse to the cemetery. Amy didn’t leave Dad’s side. When we arrived at the gravesite, she didn’t leave mine. She walked in a daze. I knew she hadn’t gotten much sleep.
Mom sobbed through the whole funeral and cried even harder at the cemetery.
When we arrived home, Amy threw herself on Hannah’s bed and refused to move. She had done the same after the wake.